


Voice of the stone

by HaruIchigo



Series: Happy Life Day! (With love and squalor) [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family Drama, Friendship, M/M, Missing Scene, Out of Character, Rage, Seduction, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28654377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaruIchigo/pseuds/HaruIchigo
Summary: Ziara invites Thrawn to Irizi family estate to celebrate the first day of spring with her family. For the last time before she becomes Ar'alani.
Relationships: Ar'alani/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Original Character(s)
Series: Happy Life Day! (With love and squalor) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025602
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	Voice of the stone

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Голос камня](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28533585) by [HaruIchigo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaruIchigo/pseuds/HaruIchigo). 



> 1)Ar'alani inviting Thrawn to Irizi's mansion is so "Brideshead revisited" I couldn't help but invent a twin brother for her.
> 
> 2)Three statues in the grotto and their meaning is a hommage to "Three princesses of the underworld" painting by Victor Vasnetsov

"Ar'alani".

What kind of woman is she? How is she different from Ziara?  
Recently, Ziara has been thinking a lot about this, trying to look into herself and understand what will leave her life along with her name. She knew what was coming: a new promotion, a new responsibility, but what will go?

“Tell me, how was Kivu'raw'nuru different from Mitth'raw'nuru?” She asked Thrawn one day as they flew to Csilla to report. Thrawn sat at a distance, reading something as usual, but Ziara couldn't concentrate. Finally she began sketching him to pass the time.

“They differ in many ways.” Thrawn wanted to touch his chin as usual, but noticing that he was being drawn, he returned his hand to the armrest and lowered his head. “By adopting the Mitth name, I also adopted the Mitth’s principles, which are definitely different from the Kivu’s principles.

“Principles of Kivu…”

Ziara chuckled at the occasional pun. At Ksilla, it became a household name: "influential as Kivu", "rich as Kivu", "ambitious as Kivu" ... of course, it meant that the person mentioned does not possess any of these qualities.  
For many millennia, every Chiss family has been a ruling one, or at least tasted this power. Except them. Their syndics have made the worst decisions over and over again.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at your former family. Go on, please”.

“Oh, you thought I made a slip?” Thrawn did not raise his head, diligently maintaining his posture for her. “This is not true. Do you know the history of my former family?”

“Well, enlighten me”.

“Hundreds of years ago, in times of civil strife, they were secret vassals of Mitth. A clan of spies and assassins, consisted of blood relatives, ready to kill or die at one word from the syndic. Or live a long, unremarkable life, keeping the secret”.

Ziara looked up from her sketch in surprise.

“I haven't heard about it. Is it still classified?”

“Not at all. But it was too long ago, the society stopped caring. Now the Kivu exists, in fact, in order to raise new recruits for the ruling families, like many others. But their principles have not changed: loyalty and service.

"So Kivu'raw'nuru was more devoted?"

Thrawn looked at her, surprised.

“No, I would not say that. But Mitth'raw'nuru, by contrast, is loyal to the entire Ascendancy, not just the ruling families. The area of responsibility has expanded. The same will happen to Ar'alani”.

Ziara sighed. Of course, he guessed the essence of the question but didn’t have enough subtlety to let it slide. 

“While I am still Ziara, I invite you to celebrate ch'iadan at our estate“. She decided to change the topic because she saw Thrawn ready to snatch onto it like a hound. She needed to embarrass him, urgently.  
It helped. He went back to reading again.

“I don’t know if it is appropriate after the recent clash of interests between Mitth and Irizi. Besides, your family will probably go to watch the blooming trees”.

“Not this year”. Ziara pretended to concentrate on erasing the unsuccessful line. “This will be my last day of ch'iadan with my family, so there will be a reception at the estate. Stay, grandpa will be glad. The others also want to meet you”.

“The others? Your older sister Irizi'luvi'astov and your twin brother Irizi'far'inrokini, I presume?”

Ziara rarely mentioned them, and was surprised that he remembered.

“Yes, Ziluvia and Zifari”. She snorted. “Looks like the Chiss, but it's actually a two-headed snake”.

Thrawn looked at her again, this time questioningly. Ziara waved her hand.

“Never mind, the usual brother-sister slander. Is it not the same with your brother?”

“No”. Thrawn's face became somewhat tense, even sad. “I'm proud of Thrass. But perhaps he talks about me to others the same way you talk about your kin. He has every right to do so”.

This time, Ziara touched on his sore subject. She didn’t acquaint Thrass personally, but she knew from Ziluvia, who had recently become a syndic, that he was a serious young Chiss, careful and intelligent. They said about him that he would go far... if the older brother won’t drown his career along with his.  
Apparently Thrawn has heard that too.

Ziara thought that for the first time in her memory he felt some kind of emotion because of someone else's opinion. She wondered if her own opinion mattered to him at all.  
She, of course, did not ask.

“Well, I do not accept the refusal. In addition, you need to learn to attend social events, this will come in handy”.

Thrawn seemed still hesitant, but he didn't argue.

“I don't attach much importance to where to start the new year. I was not invited to the Mitth estate, so I prefer Irizi”, - he simply replied.

***

"A virgin, vague with his preferences," Zifari summed up quietly, looking at Thrawn's back. Fortunately, Ziluvia distracted Thrawn with a conversation, and he certainly couldn't hear it.  
Ziara rolled her eyes. Sometimes she hated her brother - there was too much feigned cynicism in him. She suspected that, having come to terms with how they, the twins, looked alike, he made every effort to be different from her in everything else.

“I didn’t ask you about that”.

“You asked what I think of him. I think exactly that''. Zifari brushed the stray strand. His thick jet-black hair has grown even longer since Ziara last saw him. And he wore them just like she did - loose.  
None of them wanted to part with their favorite hairstyle, and each hoped that the other twin would give up.  
Soon it won't matter anymore...

“I don’t like it when you pretend to be a fool, leave it for your antique dealers”.

Zifari sighed.

“Well, what can I say that you yourself don't know about? He's a dark horse, that's all I know from others. What I see myself: there are manners, but there is no habit of using them. A commoner to the core: he knows a lot of beautiful words, but he pronounces them with a Rentor accent, it's just ridiculous. Mitth obviously decided to leave him be and invest in the younger one. However, he was not thrown out of the family at the first opportunity, which means that someone considers him valuable”.

"Do you think that for Irizi he would be ... an unprofitable investment?" Ziara didn't like talking about Thrawn like that, but it was a language that Zifari understood well.

“Do you think they'll want to see him in Irizi because he's a promising officer?” The brother chuckled, his eyes flashing. “We already have one”.

Ziara frowned. She guessed where he was leading, and she did not like it.

“In a week there would be none”.

“That's it. My version: he will be offered a place in Irizi, but it will be just an attempt to keep you. You look cute together: beautiful, young, talented…”

“Shut up”.

She had completely forgotten that these words had exactly the opposite effect on Zifari.

“Just imagine: he would get a blood relationship with Irizi, you would get him, and the Navy would have to eat the dust, because such marriages are not dissolved by its laws”.

“What makes you think that I need him?”

“You don't? Can I pick him up?”

“You are not that irresistible. Besides, he is not interested in it at all”.

Zifari shook his head condescendingly.

“Dear sister, I accidentally touched his hand, and he flinched, as if tased. He is not interested in you and your va…”

Ziara nudged him in the side with her elbow. Naturally, he did not have time to defend himself.

“Oh, why…”

“Stumbled?” Ziara asked deliberately loudly, holding his shoulder while he gasped for air. “Probably the root on the sidewalk”.

Thrawn turned around but said nothing. The conversation with Ziluvia seemed more interesting for him. They seemed to be discussing some kind of historical battle, but Ziara was sure that her sister was trying to fish out something about the recent events in the Mitth family.

Ziara hadn't imagined her last family visit like this. She hoped that she could walk alone around the estate, to say goodbye in silence. She took Thrawn to distract the siblings, to stop awkward talks about how leaving the family does not mean breaking all ties...

Ziara hated these conversations. She knew that formally, no one can forbid her to communicate with Irizi. But it would be indecent to do so. Neither she nor any Irizi will violate decorum for the sake of a family dinner, certainly not in the first few years.  
This ch'iadan is the last.

She thought that, captured by the importance of the moment, the family would become different. More... sincere. But the parents still preferred not to talk at home about anything more important than the recent news, grandfather occupied all of Thrawn's attention Ziluvia bragged about her political victories and Zifari tried to throw her off with sarcasm. All she heard from them about the promotion: "Congratulations!" and "Ar'alani ... sounds very elegant."  
Ziara was alone. But at the same time, everyone needed her, constantly. For example, this walk happened because Ziluvia just needed someone to distract Zifari while she showed Thrawn the park and pond and the natural stalagmites that fit so gracefully... in other words, while she was on a reconnaissance mission.

“Zifari ... do you remember how you wanted me to disappear when we were children?” Ziara asked, watching how living trees in the alley gradually give way to stone ones.

“You want to ask if I'm glad that it will finally happen? Of course I am”.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zifari smiling, but it wasn't his usual sarcastic grin.

“What can Irizi give you? You've been there for too long”. He pointed up. “I travel a lot, "multiply the treasures of the family," as grandfather says, but for me space is just a boring wasteland, and ships are means of transportation. You are different. You see life in all this”.

“But Navy is not a family”. Ziara put her hands behind her back, trying to cling to the belt, out of habit, but there was no belt: she forgot that in the morning she had put on civilian clothes and a short jacket in Irizi colors. “The attitude towards me will change. Do you remember how you wanted to go to Chaf after a quarrel with our father? You told me that you fear…”

Zifari waved it off.

“It's different. I thought I had someone to go to. It turned out that this someone thought differently. But the Navy really wants you”.

He spoke to her, but looked at Thrawn, thoughtful, appraising. As if he was trying to figure something out. Ziara frowned.  
Everyone in this house, except her and her grandfather, viewed Thrawn as an expensive artifact, estimating its price, usefulness, and benefit from its acquisition. Could it be that they thought the same about her and about each other...  
In the Navy, she lost the habit of it.

Thrawn and Ziluvia stopped at the end of the alley, where the stone trees finally lost their shape, like melted candles, and turned into stalagmites. Further a natural underground lake glistened, dark and uninviting.

"... one big piece of art," Ziluvia was saying. For once, she was shorter than her companion, and she clearly enjoyed looking up at Thrawn. “Fann'riv'inrokini has been designing and sculpting this alley for at least a year... right, Zifari?”

“Two years”. Zifari put on his most charming smile. “If you put your ear here, you can hear Csilla breathing”.

He leaned over to the stone and closed his eyes. For a second, his face became as calm as Ziara had never seen him before. She could not imagine him, the one who was not able to spend a couple of minutes alone, walking here, listening to stalagmites… but it seems a lot has changed over the years.  
Thrawn stared at him intently, as if keeping in memory how the blue silk merged with the gray stone. Zifari opened his eyes and their gazes met. He smiled again.

“Nice sound. Do you want to try?”

“Thank you, next time probably” Thrawn turned away a little faster than it was polite. Ziara couldn't help but notice. Was he ... nervous?

She felt annoyed. This Zifari! How does he not understand that his flirting can be unpleasant? Thrawn was obviously not used to this.

“Let’s go back”. She suggested. “It's cold to swim today”.

“To swim? Here?” Ziluvia wrinkled her nose. “Never in my life. Thrawn, have you seen the green maze? It's so beautiful…”

“I had no such pleasure,” he replied politely, and allowed Ziluvia to drag him back.

Zifari watched them go. He looked completely pleased.

“Your Thrawn either has infinite patience or is infinitely confused”.

“Because you attacked him from two flanks. But as far as I know him, he just needs time to get ready, and then he will vanquish you”. Ziara disliked this conversation. She lagged behind, pretending to tie a lace, and, waiting until she was left alone, pressed her ear to the stalagmite.

At first she heard only the wind raised by the artificial weather system, and the rumble of a mower somewhere in the distance, but gradually the sounds disappeared, now there was only a steady hum, as if the sea was raging there, at the core of the planet ...

As a child, she loved fairy tales about the secret ocean, into which all huge underwater creatures fled from the first ice age. They are still there, in the darkness, beating their tails, billowing waves, and the stones catch their voices, but one day they will break free again, and a completely different era will begin...

She won't hear it again. Ar'alani belongs to space, and space is always silent. The only sound there is your own breath trapped in the cage of a helmet.

She stroked the stone goodbye and turned away. It was time to get Thrawn out of the green maze.

***

For the whole week, she and Thrawn did not manage to exchange a word. As if all Irizis were delighted with the opportunity not to speak to her, and attacked their guest with renewed energy.  
Everything went according to her plan, but she didn’t like how easily Thrawn took this attention and gave himself completely to it. Ziara seemed to have ceased to exist for him.  
The only thing that seemed to unnerve him so far was Zifari's attention. Ziara noticed that he tries to keep a distance from her brother, not to be alone with him, although he was not against long conversations about art.  
Zifari, who, in addition to his legal duties, was engaged in increasing the family art collection, could easily support these conversations, adjusting to Thrawn. He adjusted not only in the interests: Ziara noticed that he began to dress more discreetly: he changed the heavy brocade with complex, bright embroidery to plain dark fabrics, and chose accessories more carefully. It was as if he was remaking himself, trying to guess the tastes of his "goal". Or hiding something about himself. She remembered that his love for pretentiousness had been instilled in him by his Chaf lover... but she forgot what Zifari himself liked. He probably forgot himself.

She also had to think about fashion these days: her dress arrived for the final fitting. Mother, who had left on business for Copero, asked Ziluvia to manage this delicate matter.  
"You will look perfect," she said, gently squeezing Ziara's hands goodbye.  
Ziara smiled and confirmed that she would.  
Everyone in this family had their own priorities.

A dress was ready for her: without any shoulder straps, lush, richly layered, black as Chaos, shimmering with every movement. A symbol of Irizi's readiness to give her forever to the Chaos and the Ascendancy’s stars.

Ziluvia helped her squeeze into the tight bodice and fasten the invisible front hooks.

“Your arms are too muscular for such dresses,” she summed up. “I hope the shawl will hide it. I'll do your hair myself: nothing complicated and pretentious, you are an officer after all. By the way, I voted for the ceremonial uniform, we do not want reproaches for frivolity, do we?

Ziara shrugged, examining herself in a triple mirror.

“I like it. The uniform is always with me, I don't know when I will be able to put on the ball gown again”.

Her sister was right: although the bodice lifted her breasts, tightened her waist, making the silhouette more graceful, the years of training were showing: her body became the body of a warrior, and the dress was more suitable for a gentle girl on her first night out. So this is how her family sees her...

“Did you choose the style?”

“No, it was mother’s idea. Did you agree without looking?” Ziluvia took the necklace out of the case, examined it critically and put it back.

“Duties first. Do you know what bothers me in this house?” Ziara lifted her hair, assessing the effect. “Conversations. It’s as if all the Chiss are talking and no one actually does anything. Only we, the Defence Fleet, work”.

“This is roughly what your guest said at dinner yesterday, albeit in different terms. It seems that you and him spend too much time together”.

Ziara frowned. Yesterday they were talking about security and foreign policy, - Ziluvia, as always, turned the whole conversation to her topics of interest. She was clearly provoking Thrawn, and if Ziara hadn't "accidentally" spilled the sauce on him, today all Csilla would soon know about his views on preemptive strikes.

“What does Thrawn have to do with it? Were you and Zifari given the task to compromise him? Because of your run-in with Mitth at the council?”

Ziluvia took out a twinkling crystal star pendant from another case, lifted it to the light.

“Oh, this boy will compromise himself sooner or later, he doesn't even need our help. Besides, I regularly see Thurfian exasperated about him, and it warms my soul. No, we're just wondering why you called him again”.

Ziara took the star from her and put it to her chest. A mother's jewel, part of her wedding set. She will be pleased ...

_"Why do I always think about what will please them? They are already like shadows, and soon they will completely cease to exist for me."_

“I was… afraid to be left alone with my emotions,” she admitted, looking at Ziluvia from the mirror. "But instead of me, Thrawn distracts you... can you somehow keep brother away from him? This is becoming indecent”.

“Zifari has worked hard this year, he deserves a little adventure with the seduction of innocence. I think you made him a great ch'iadan gift”.

“Strange…” Ziara did not take her eyes off her sister, trying to find in her face at least something... real. Everything Ziluvia showed the world was a perfect facade. She was like a refined statue that came to life, cold and cruel. Every gesture is verified, not a single random fold on her clothes.  
For Zifari, nothing important existed at all, for her - nothing more important than her own person.

“Strange, that you are still looking for my approval, although you cannot stand me?”

This, too, did not impress Ziluvia. But Ziara suddenly relaxed.

“You wish. Usually I don't think about you at all. Will you do something with my nails? For a parting gift. You used to like it…”

“Zifari was right: you became terribly sentimental before promotion”. Ziluvia took her hand, not out of affection, but assessing the scope of work. “This is indeed strange, stupid and does not feel like you at all”.

“What's so stupid in this?” Ziara almost pulled her hand away and sent her sister to all the creatures of the night.

“You are afraid to be left alone and diligently seek support from us, although we are not able to give it to you. The one who is capable, however, you ignore, while seething from jealousy, and pestering Zifari. My advice: outsmart your twin and sleep with your Thawn first”.

“You won't get a free show”. Ziara bent down for the fallen hairpin so that her sister did not see the blush.

Sleeping with Thrawn... of course she had such an idea, back in the academy. But a trip to the museum put everything in its place: either Thrawn was not interested in her personally, or in anyone at all.  
She, however, rarely regretted that nothing had worked out: in the relationship she was more attracted to "civilians", for whom she was a sort of warrior queen, an exciting adventure. With the military people, sex was officially forbidden, and in reality - more like a routine in between shifts, and such relationships did not work out at all. Neither one nor the other could work with Thrawn.

“I’m saying that losing us you will get bored, but not upset. We will remain in the past: just ghosts, voices from underground. He, however, is from the same world, losing him is worse for you”. Ziluvia shook her graceful head. “Love makes us so stupid and vulnerable…”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Ziara objected coldly, and threw a crystal star at her sister. “Here, tell someone to fix the lock”.

***

She was meditating in the dojo once again when Thrawn entered. She knew that it was him, without even opening her eyes: only Thrawn completely changed his step, entering the mat.  
Ziara heard him warming up, and this finally brought her out of meditation, although she chose to stay with her eyes closed.

Here he comes to the rack with weapons, removes the staff...

She guessed rather than heard. And put out her hand in time.

“I suppose it means a positive answer?” Thrawn asked, choosing a weapon for himself.

Ziara fought the urge to strike him under the knees with the tip of the staff.

“Anyone who interrupts someone else's meditation does not deserve anything positive”.

“Sitting with your eyes closed does not mean meditating. Are we going to start?”

Ziara sighed loudly and deliberately, but agreed. Otherwise, he would ask why she sat in the dojo then.

Thrawn chose sticks, as always. He liked this weapon, he studied it, tried to unleash its full potential. Ziara did not understand this: ordinary sticks, what is there about them? But she did not criticize out loud. Each has its own form and subject of meditation.

They parted, bowed to each other.  
Ziara immediately decided not to let him escape. But no matter how fiercely she attacked, every time he managed to disappear from a direct blow.  
When she realized what a mistake she had made, it was already too late: she was so carried away, trying to complete at least one attack, that she did not notice how he was simply tiring her up... to deliver a final blow. Thrawn did not forgive mistakes.

In the next round, Ziara pretended to fall for the same maneuver, but as soon as Thrawn finally tried to get out of the defense, she attacked him with renewed vigor. As soon as he became less stable, she immediately threw him to the floor, holding the end of the pole to his throat.

Thrawn smiled.

“No other sparring rewards me like that. You are always able to surprise me”.

Ziara held out her hand to help him up.

“What an arrogant compliment! Learned from Zifari?”

“Irizi'far'inrokini didn't strike me as arrogant”. Thrawn accepted help, and again retreated to position. “I think you are often unfair to him”.

Ziara narrowed her eyes.

“Maybe I know better”.

She lunged, but Thrawn didn't flinch.

“There are no unbiased brothers and sisters”.

“So you consider yourself unbiased then?”

They circled the mat, not taking their eyes off each other, but no one tried to attack. Ziara thought again that Thrawn, with a naked torso and hair falling on his forehead, looked extremely good. But does he know about it?  
She suddenly felt uneasy. What if Zifari reveal something to him that she never could? The brother was... different, her complete opposite.  
Why would Thrawn suddenly protect him if there is nothing...

“Am I obliged to answer this question?”

Ziara sighed and barely resisted rushing at him. No. Now he was too ready for her attack.

“Don't bother, I’ll guess your answer.”

They didn't talk anymore. Thrawn switched to more aggressive tactics but was noticeably bored. They fought each other hundreds of times, and while every fight with him was a puzzle for Ziara to solve, for Thrawn it became a routine.

After another defeat, Ziara raised her hands in surrender.

“Enough. I can see that you are bored with me”.

It didn't sound as she meant it to sound.

“I mean, I’m a predictable opponent for you”.

“This is not true”. Thrawn smoothed his hair. “I win because your thoughts are not here”.

Ziara shrugged.

“I have a lot of problems to think of. Apologies”.

“And I am one of these problems? I can leave”.

Ziara felt a stab of guilt. She herself brought him in, and she herself is unhappy now.  
She tossed Thrawn a warm towel from the basket.

“You like it here”.

“Yes, I never get tired of studying the architecture of the estate. Unlike Mitth, Irizi do not try to hide that they are underground: cave motives are everywhere: high ceilings, but small windows, columns of precious gemstones found only at great depths, rough walls, stalactites in the small hall…”

“Artificial”.

“And yet there they are. The Irizi estate is like an underground treasury, a clear statement that this family is associated with the mining industry and is proud of it. But above all, this indicates honesty with oneself. To my surprise”.

Ziara frowned.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, although she already knew the answer.

Thrawn slowly wiped his face and neck, buying time for an answer.

“I don’t want to sound rude, but I haven’t yet met anyone among Irizi who would be honest with oneself, except for the head of the family, who, by the way, was engaged in the restoration of the estate”.

“How interesting”. Ziara crossed her arms over her chest. “And in my opinion, the one who does not notice the obvious is engaged in self-deception, following the lead of his desires. Zifari doesn't seem arrogant to you because he adjusts to you, but give him what he wants and he will treat you like a doormat. I don't know about you, but my brother doesn't appreciate those who like him”.

“I don’t know about you…” Thrawn repeated thoughtfully. “I see. But I cannot give Zifari what he wants. And no one can give him what he really need... so why does this situation bother you so much?”

Ziara took a deep breath. So Thrawn understands everything. But then why not just refuse Zifari? What kind of game is it?

“It doesn't bother me. You are an adult and you can do whatever you want. I do not care”.

"I see," Thrawn nodded. “Thanks again for the sparring”.

He wiped the sticks, putting them back and went out. It was not clear whether the answer had offended him or not. Ziara made herself think that she really didn't care.

So far, of all the empty conversations she had to endure, this one had been especially empty.

***  
After a shower, she wanted to find Thrawn, to say that in fact she cares, that there is a reason ... she still did not know how to tell about it, but hoped that he would help her find the right words.

The servant told her that Thrawn had been seen in a grotto, a cave garden on the banks of an underground river.  
The grotto was designed to seem like a wild place that can only be found by chance, although a crystal gallery led from the mansion into its stone wall. A small passage in the rock - and there it was: a pile of stones overgrown with soft emerald moss, on which dwarf trees and bushes grew: as if the seeds accidentally fell into the cave and sprouted in spite of everything.  
Artificial sun rays was falling through the cracks in the vaults of the grotto every day, regardless of the weather. At night they were replaced by moonbeams. In the center, on an island among the playing colorful fish, there were three statues, basking in a stream of sunlight: three women lavishly clad. From a distance they could be mistaken for the living.

Thrawn stood on the bank, hands behind his back, carefully examining them.  
Ziara wanted to go around the stone and get his attention, but a completely different figure approached Thrawn from the shadows.  
Zifari.  
He came from the riverbank, and in his aquamarine and gray robes seemed like an extension of the river.

"Do you know what they represent?" he asked, mimicking Thrawn's pose.

“I believe the lady on the throne, covered with a golden veil, is aurodium, a noble metal, the basis of Irizi’s well-being. A lady in shining armor, holding out a sword to her - dunium, a metal that allowed Irizi to become powerful enough to become part of the ruling families, and get the necessary connections with the Navy”.

“Well, it was not difficult. And the third one?”

“The young woman sitting at a distance… I think it's lutetium. She hides her face, there are no symbols of the Irizi house on her clothes. Lutetium is an extremely rare metal, Irizi do not associate their well-being with it, although it often helps you out”.

“Someone did his homework well… Yes, this is an embodiment of our family's wealth. But our main wealth is our brothers and sisters. You would be a gem in Irizi's crown”.

Zifari touched his shoulder. Even from where she was, Ziara saw Thrawn stiffen. He did not change his posture, only turned his head, as if performing on a parade.

“I don’t…” he began, but Zifari leaned forward and interrupted him with a kiss.

Ziara clenched her fists, blood rushing to her cheeks. It's time to go out and remind brother of his place ...  
... only Thrawn would not appreciate such interference.  
What Zifari did was rude, to say the least. There were decent courtship rituals where both sides explicitly declared their intentions and followed certain rules. Thrawn had every right to challenge Zifari to a duel for the insult. But instead, he turned his whole body to him, gently touching his cheeks, his hair ...  
These were not his movements at all. As if something had already happened to him, something irreparable.

"This is not the last ... that I can show you ..." Zifari purred, breaking the kiss, but not pulling away. “Art is not everything…”

His hand slid down between their bodies and Thrawn froze again.  
Ziara could not see what was happening, but she could guess from the movement of Zifari’s elbow.

“I don’t think anyone would be glad… to see us in this position…” Thrawn finally got himself under control.

“Are you afraid that we will be caught? Or are you afraid to feel something new? Don't worry, no one has been here for a long time”.

Ziara grimaced at the banality of these words. Once outside the Dominion, she first learned that the Chiss do not attach to sex a hundredth part of the importance all other races do. For the first time, she heard jokes about the "frigidity" of her species.  
These inhabitants of Chaos should see Zifari now!

“No one has been here, you say…” Thrawn gently took his hand... and suddenly, in one movement, knocked Zifari on the emerald moss, instantly finding himself on top, pressing both of Zifari’s hands by the wrists above his head.  
Zifari tried to break free but to no avail.  
Ziara felt his panic even from a distance, although she saw that Thrawn was holding him not half as strongly as he could. This is how the snowcat plays with the frightened kiari rabbit: presses it with a soft paw, pretending not to release its claws if it tries to escape.

“I have heard the saying of a distant barbarian tribe: "the one who goes hunting, becomes the hunted". Thrawn released his grip and grabbed Zifari by the chin. Zifari raised himself on his elbows as if spellbound.

"W ... what does that mean?"

“You were so carried away by your position as a hunter, chasing an indecisive prey… but who was really hunting whom?” Thrawn chuckled, but Ziara knew the gaze was the gaze of a snowcat.

Zifari swallowed.

“So all this awkwardness... my sister did not warn you that you could be so deceitful”.

“This is not deceit. I am a strategist. If I go into battle, I am looking for a way to defeat the enemy”.

This time Zifari chuckled, regaining control of himself a little.

“True, I have never been tempted with innocence. I guess I'm defeated”.

“Not yet”. Thrawn gripped his jaw tighter, leaned forward. “Forget innocence, for it is just a trap. I will destroy you, but you will beg for more…”

Ziara had enough. She turned abruptly and left the grotto, not even caring if she was heard. They should have thought about decency, after all, not her!

She stopped only in the middle of the crystal corridor. She had to go back, and give both a good whipping because neither of them had the right to...

"... not digital reproductions, but a unique limited edition album," she heard her brother's voice and turned around. Zifari and Thrawn walked towards her leisurely, talking about some book as if nothing had happened.

Only there was a tiny drop of blood, caked like a jewel on Zifari's lower lip.

“Are you going to the grotto?” Zifari asked. He just could not help smiling, and not particularly tried to suppress it. “What a surprise!”

“I wanted to read in silence. But if you have a better idea...” She didn't want to leave them alone. Zifari frowned, opened his mouth to refuse, but Thrawn got ahead of him.

“You promised to show me your sculptures in the east wing. It seems I never got to them”.

"Yes ..." Zifari managed himself. "I haven't seen them either. I never understood it, by the way”.

“Well, Thrawn will explain it to you,” Ziara snapped. She won, but somehow she didn’t enjoy it.

***

Ch'iadan was getting closer, flowers were planted on the flower beds: each composition represented the unique flora of different parts of Csilla, as it was before the latest ice age.  
Ziara had never seen these preparations before: when she happened to celebrate the beginning of the year at home, the family usually went to _adan'afar_ \- the "house of bloom", the best place to watch the snowy desert turning into a hot blooming meadow... and die again in a week.  
Grandfather said that it was an enlightening, philosophical time, but for young people, it was basically a way to loiter in the mountains and indulge the sheer sweet idleness for a whole week.  
Ziara could now lie on the floor with a bottle of sweet wine and a fruit bowl, but at the estate, it would feel inappropriate.  
Instead, she helped to decorate the ballroom with flower garlands.  
Thrawn appeared occasionally, too, although his thoughts were clearly somewhere far away. They did not speak at work. Ziara expected him to break the silence himself, but that never happened.

Tying flower stems, she cast glances at him.

_"I will destroy you, but you will beg" ..._

It was not at all like the reserved Thrawn she knew. Now his calmness seemed a sham. Does it mean that only Zifari is allowed to see the real him?! He didn't deserve it!

She hoped that by the very eve of ch'iadan her rage would subside and give way to light sadness... but even that very evening, straightening her dress and preparing to go out to the ballroom, training a polite smile and tilting her head in front of the mirror, she burned with rage.

***  
Aristocratic upbringing won. She greeted her acquaintances and those whom she was introduced to, responded to congratulations, and filled her questis with dance invitations. As if nothing bothered her.  
The Irizi invited representatives of all the ruling families and some former vassals who had separated long ago but retained friendly relations.  
The hall, in honor of the spring holiday, resembled a blooming flower bed: the families, of course, tried to outdo each other with brightness and luxury. The real reason they got together was the opportunity to exchange gossip and establish informal connections, show wealth, demonstrate that they should be reckoned with.  
Ziara, leaving the Irizi family, no longer interested them. And, as she realized with relief, they now interested her just as little.

At the flowery pillar she noticed a young man wearing the color of Mitth. He had clearly never been here before and kept peering into the crowd as if looking for someone.  
Ziara recognized the curve of the eyebrows and the shape of the lips and the straight line of the nose: Thrass was clearly related to Thrawn, although he seemed softer. Long hair that shone blue rather than black in the soft light, and a golden flowering branch painted on his cheek for ch'iadan, gave him a particularly romantic look.  
Why didn't Zifari target this particular brother ...

Thrawn did not seem to notice him: his attention was captured by some other Mitth, whom it was obviously impolite to interrupt.

Ziara thought that Thrawn would wear something ceremonial for the holiday, flaming scarlet and glittering gold of Mitth would suit him... but she was mistaken. He was wearing the same black officer's uniform, adorned, however, with gold and scarlet aiguillettes. On his lower eyelids, red streaks of faal'keru - "bloody tears of rage" burned - a little archaic and ceremonial, but still an acceptable decoration for the military.  
Ziara was offended by his appearance more than she expected to be - who is he to openly oppose the luxury of the ruling houses? Why he must always stand out?

“You're wearing a uniform,” she said when Mitth syndic had left.

“Is it inappropriate?” Thrawn frowned slightly. “I noticed other uniformed officers here.

“And why do you need "tears of rage"? Are you going to declare war on someone?”

“They symbolize not only war or revenge, but it is also a sign of loyalty and concern for the Ascendancy. If you remember, legend has it that Admiral En'eria cried tears of blood as he retreated from…”

“Incredibly interesting. By the way, Mitth'ras'safis is just lovely, unlike you: all this velvet, embroidery…” Ziara made a smile. “Why can't you be like everyone else at least once in your life? Wear something fancy for a party, for example”.

“I think my brother took care of his attire months beforehand. I, unlike him, learned about the invitation much later”.

Ziara opened her mouth and closed it immediately.

He didn't try to stand out. He just had nothing else to wear.

She was ashamed, and this made her even angrier with Thrawn.

“By the way, where is Zifari? I thought he came with you”.

“This is not so. Most likely he is now talking with someone more important to him”.

There was not even a shadow of jealousy in this phrase. Thrawn was simply stating a fact.

“Missing an opportunity to parade next to the handsome officer… this is completely unlike him”.

“You are the only officer he should be with today”. Thrawn looked at her, concerned. “I will remind him of this when we meet”.

“Do not bother. Tomorrow the new year will begin, you and I will fly away from here, and we will never return. But today is the Ch'iadan’s Eve, a holiday. I don't want to remind my family of... Ar'alani. I don't want to upset them”.

“You won't come back”.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not coming back here, but nothing prevents me from returning,” Thrawn replied calmly, straightening his cuffs.

Ziara felt her cheeks glow. What's that?! Is he... shows his fangs? Well, he has every right to, it was just... he sounded differently. As if someone taught him.  
She wanted to find Zifari, grab him by the hair, and wipe all of the ballroom floor with his face. As in childhood, when he took her toys.

“I need a drink,” she said, completely out of place, and left.

It was enough for two dances and a few banal conversations. Then Ziara hung out only with glasses of sparkling wine because they couldn’t betray her.  
But the glasses were few.

She eventually went up to Ziluvia's rooms. There should have been a flask, she knew for sure.

The sister remained true to herself: the flask was found among the endless bottles of perfume and contained something so strong that not every mechanic from the lower decks would dare to drink.  
Perfect.

Ziara kicked off her shoes and lay down on the carpet with her feet up against the wall. Ar'alani will no longer be able to behave like this, even when no one is seeing. She should be an example. Inspiration.  
First of all for herself.  
But today is Ch'iadan.  
She recalled legends about how tens of thousands of years ago, during the first ice ages, ch'iadan were celebrated with insane bloody orgies, battles for life and death, and the hunt for prisoners from Chaos. It was a release for the whole year ahead, something that they never talk about or remember afterward. The Chiss are renowned for their restraint, their cruelty and fury hidden under the guise of decency as safely as Csilla is hidden under ice, as ancient killer whales in their secret ocean under the layers of stone.

She remembered the drop of blood on Zifari's lip, and winced, imagining the pain of such a bite.  
Its cruelty.

_"I will destroy you ..."_

But Zifari didn't make a sound then. Otherwise, she would have heard.  
Did he really like it... or did he just endure it? For the sake of something only he knows ...  
Silly brother.

Ziara threw the empty flask aside and tried to get up, but it turned out to be more difficult than she thought.  
It’s wrong... Zifari must be protected ... no, Thrawn must be protected ... no, she must tell Thrawn that he has no right ...  
No.  
She needed to go and smile at everyone. And dance. And end this night already, and end Ziara once and for all! To Chaos with all this! With this house and this family... they will understand whom they have lost, but it will be too late!  
And Thrawn... Zifari... needed to be dealt with.

She made it to the ballroom quite successfully and even gracefully.  
The time was approaching midnight, so although the music was still playing, the guests scattered around the estate, and only a few were left to dance.  
Thrawn was talking about something with his brother. Approaching, Ziara heard only his last words, something about syndics and politics.

“It's boring,” she concluded. “You are boring”.

“Maybe so. I'm sorry, Thrass. I promised Ziara a dance and avoided keeping my promise for too long”.

Thrass glanced at Ziara with ill-concealed curiosity.

“It must be hard to take command at such a young age,” he said politely.

“It's harder to endure your brother,” Ziara replied, and gently squeezed his soft gloved hand. “But you're lovely”.

Thrass raised an eyebrow and bowed his head but did not comment. Apologizing, he walked away, and, as Ziara noticed, immediately fell into the claws of Ziluvia.

Thrawn turned to her, his expression unreadable.

“If you lean on my hand, no one will notice your condition,” he said quietly.

“Oh, fuck you,” Ziara muttered, elegantly accepting the invitation.

“Maybe you want to go out into the garden?”

“No, I'm in the mood to dance. And I will. But just something not very difficult... not with too many figures. You can dance, right?”

“Of course. I can’t put the Mitth family to shame”.

“Yes of course. Sorry, sometimes I forget that you ... are not the same as me”.

“Excuse me?”

“A commoner. Constantly have to prove something. Did not grow in this ice cave, which is called fa... oh, music. Finally!”

Thrawn was not the best dancer and clearly lacked practice. He was too focused on his movements, but Ziara was sure that they look like a perfect couple. Looking was enough in this house.

“You fight better than dance,” she said anyway.

“I must admit, I have more experience with the former”.

“I could train you”.

“It seems we will have to part soon”.

“What?”

“This is a dance with a change of partners”.

In one swift motion Thrawn handed Ziara to another, and she noticed that Zifari had taken her place. Her partner from the Chaf family tried to begin a small talk, but she answered absent-mindedly, watching how Zifari says something to Thrawn, how Thrawn smiles slightly and nods...  
She also noticed that Zifari was limping a little, but did not even begin to speculate.

“Traitor,” she said as the dance brought her and Thrawn back to each other.

“I’m just following the rules”.

“There is another rule: do not fuck other people's brothers! Well, what I am talking about! You still have loyalty of a Kivu!”

“Oh. Now I understand”.

“What do you understand?”

“We must take a walk”.

Ziara didn't resist. She didn't care whether to sort things out here or in the garden, she had nothing to hide from those to whom she no longer belonged.

An artificial night fell on the estate, constellations flickered in the holographic sky, the trees in the garden softly glowed with multi-colored lanterns, electric candelabras made in the form of bouquets shimmered in the niches of the green labyrinth.  
Ziara could still hear voices in the distance, but here, in the heart of the labyrinth, the silence reigned.

“I apologize for the scene in the grotto you happened to see,” Thrawn finally said.

“I don’t understand... why this barbarism? Is it so difficult for you to court each other by the rules? Nobody would judge you”, Ziara lied.

“None of us wanted approval or condemnation. Hence the secrecy”.

“Zifari did not want approval? He just hasn't figured out yet if this is profitable to be seen with you”.

Thrawn's face turned into an impenetrable mask.

"I assume you took on the role of my guide to the world of Irizi?" He asked quietly. “And pride does not allow you to give up this role”.

“It's not about pride! Zifari doesn't need you. Maybe he wants you to ... I don't know: to whip him properly? To scar him, humiliate him or whatever you do to each other…”

“It is not of your concern”.

“He's my twin and you fuck him! This is my concern!”

Thrawn stopped and turned to her.

“No,” he said coldly.

Ziara clenched her fists. She wanted to do something disgusting, something that would confuse him so that he would stop being so self-confident, and...

She slammed him into the hedge, pinned him with her whole body, shut him up with an angry, desperate kiss. She fumbled for his cock, and with twisted pleasure thought that since he likes cruelty, then there is no point in holding back.

_"I will destroy you ..."_

The kiss was not entirely unrequited. And this burning look, when Ziara finally broke the kiss but did not let go... there was definitely something besides rage.

“If you are testing whether I’m capable of doing to you the same I do to your brother... yes, physically I am capable”. “Do the same” sounded a little disdainful. As if he was talking about some unpleasant execution, threatening. “But I do not want to”.

“You say that, but your body responds differently”. She squeezed her fingers again, but apparently too hard because he winced.

“Do not think that I will continue to tolerate this, Ziara. With all due respect to you, and making allowances for your intoxication”.

“Respect?! What do you know about respect?! You…”

She grabbed the first thing that came to hand - an elegant candelabrum, - and struck.

There was a loud crack, she thought that the part of her dress was torn off, but it was a golden aiguillette. The candelabrum became entangled in it and had to be thrown away, ripping a shred from the tunic.  
Thrawn didn't even notice. He did not get into a fighting stance, as usual, but ducked like a beast that falls to the ground before attacking.

It was a real fight. A purple blush appeared on his cheekbones, as never before in training, his gaze promised nothing but pain. Ziara regretted only one thing: that, wearing a layered dress in a narrow alley, she couldn’t kick him properly in the face. She tried to, anyway, but got tangled in the hem, and Thrawn took advantage of this: he grabbed her and threw her over the hedge. She didn’t have time to wrap and landed awkwardly but automatically rolled away before she could think.  
Reflexes saved her: Thrawn easily jumped after her, aiming with his knee wherever her solar plexus had just been.  
He didn’t have time to get up when she ran into him from behind, grabbed him in a chokehold… but it didn’t help: he was expecting this and hit her on the bridge of the nose with his elbow so hard that her vision darkened. Ziara felt blood flowing in a thin warm stream from her nostrils, and this infuriated her even more.  
She mentally thanked her older sister for helping her with the nails before the ball - now they came in handy. Thrawn has spilled first blood, but she will mark him properly.

He blocked her blows, but she was pleased to see that a scratch was swelling with blood under his eye - real bloody tears of rage. He hissed with pain and fury, grabbed her by the hair, and dragged her across the grass. Ziara knew he wanted to choke her, and, twisting around, kicked him in the knee. Thrawn let go of her, trying to keep his balance, but failed. Realizing that he was falling, he tried to grab her by the throat, but Ziara was faster: she dug her nails into the pressure point on his neck. She didn't give a damn if they fell together - the main thing was to hurt him! Thrawn landed on top, raised his fist for one final knockout blow ...

Ziara smirked with bloody lips, bent her knee for a kick in the groin... but a strange sensation of cold distracted her, and Thrawn hesitated too, looking down.

Her tight bodice ripped in battle, just split in two. The night draft chilled her sweat-damp breasts, her nipples erect. She sniffed blood and for the first time felt that she was shaking from cold and heat at the same time.

Thrawn slowly lowered his fist and straightened up. He looked like a man who had just woken up and didn't quite know where he was.

Ziara took his hand and laid it on her breast, shuddering at the touch, at how he squeezed it a little, how his thumb fleetingly circled the nipple as he removed his hand.

“No”. His gaze suddenly became warm. Understanding. “You're beautiful... but no. For many reasons”.

“Because ... you prefer men?”

Thrawn shook his head.

“Because there is no one more important in my life than you and Thrass. I know that I will lose you one day. But not today. And not like this”.

His eyes were so warm, so kind, as never before and never after. Ziara did not know who hugged whom first, and at what moment she began to cry, but it was good to cry in his arms, and she could not hold back, knowing that this would never happen again. He just stroked her back in silence, and these strokes made her...

“Oh… oh, no…” She barely managed to wriggle out of his arms and get on all fours before she vomited into the bushes.

"Not the hair ..." - she thought, shuddering, feeling with horror that this was not the end. - "Not the..."

But Thrawn understood: she felt light fingers pull her hair away from her face, and held it until the spasms were gone.

“I am… like a burning fishing boat… and smell the same…” - she said, wiping her mouth.

Thrawn pulled his tunic over her shoulders.

“I think we need to find the bacta”.

“I know another remedy, and this is closer... let's go”.

She buttoned up his tunic, not thinking that it looks strange. To Chaos with that. After all, she is an officer, she has the right to wear a uniform.

There will be no difference tomorrow...

The kitchen has long been empty, the servants have disappeared to celebrate ch'iadan.

Ziara found a package of frozen vegetables in the freezer and pressed it to her nose.

“Oh yes…”

“Caf?” Thrawn asked, looking around. He seemed to doubt that he had the right to be here.

“Black and double”. Ziara closed her eyes. "I am sorry about my behavior".

“I have to apologize too,” Thrawn bent over the cafe machine thoughtfully, studying the buttons. “It was unacceptable”.

Ziara chuckled watching him making caf and occasionally glancing at the clock hanging on the wall.

“Maybe you're right. Maybe sometimes inappropriate actions are the right thing to do”.

“Not in this case”.

“You know…” Ziara thought, looking for words so as not to offend him. “Zifari and I have always tried to be different. He is soft, I am firm, he is gorgeous, I am ascetic, he makes deals, I command... but we could not shake the feeling that underneath all this we are the same. And only one of us can earn love”.

Thrawn was silent, not turning around. Ziara sighed and continued.

“Zifari… is still trying to earn it. His heart has already been broken, so... don't break his face either. Even if he asks”.

“As I said, I cannot give him what he wants”. Thrawn turned around. "Anticipating your question: no, this is not pain”.

“What does he want then?” It suddenly occurred to Ziara that she had not asked about it yet.

“The same as you. Freedom”.

Ziara smiled, believing him for some reason. He and Zifari were too similar, really.

“Yes, even before that he wanted to go to another family. Probably Mitth seemed like a good option to him”.

“And yet, freedom is not belonging to one family or another. Unlike him, you know that”.

For some reason, Ziara again remembered the giant sea creatures in the underground ocean. Even they cannot escape from captivity. Is freedom even possible? What can it bring besides destruction?

“So you still leave him”.

“I must part with him so as not to give him false hopes”.

“Do not rush”. Ziara swallowed the lump in her throat. “As long as you're around and happy… appreciate it”.

Thrawn said nothing. He waited for the machine to finish making caf and handed the cup to Ziara, glancing over her head again.

“You constantly look at the clock”.

“Is it so obvious? I apologize”.

“You agreed to meet at midnight, right?” Ziara tasted kaf and winced, - her broken lips ached.

“Yes. Usually, I don't break agreements, but…”

“Then you should go to him”.

“Perhaps. And perhaps I have more important things to do”.

Thrawn sat down on the edge of the table next to her, swaying a glass of wine thoughtfully.

“Happy ch'iadan, Thrawn,” Ziara clinked glasses with him. He smiled.

“Happy ch'iadan…” He looked at the clock again and nodded slightly. “Ar'Alani”.


End file.
